Family Lines

stories for you

Month: April 2017

The French un-connection

Photo of a French woman.

Could this be Beatrice?

Beatrice,

Reads the start of the e-mail message sent to me.

Beatrice is not me.

J’ai essaye do t’envoiyer des photos de ton sejour avec nous il y a asse longhtemps maintenant et j’ai cru que tout alle bien, mais peut-etre pas!

(The gist of the note: I tried to send you photos of your time with us but they didn’t go through.)

Still not me. Nevertheless, I’m happy to read further down in the message that Beatrice sent a lovely card to the writer and she is writing back to thank her.

This isn’t the first time I’ve received an e-mail for Beatrice. It has been happening for many years. I’ve been privy to gossip and travel plans and even a weekly French clothing store newsletter, from which I unsubscribed after a month. (Although the clothes were tres chic.) When I started receiving Beatrice’s personal e-mails, I always replied to the sender:

Salut,

Vous avez la mauvaise adresse. Je suis une femme qui vit au Canada.
SVP, essayer une autre adresse pour Beatrice.

(Hi, You have the wrong e-mail address. I’m a woman who lives in Canada. Please use another address for Beatrice.)

Photo of a French woman.

Or is this Beatrice?

Usually the person e-mails back and says thanks for letting her know. However, once someone accused me of being Beatrice and told me I wasn’t being nice. If I wanted to cut ties, I should just say so. That was just a one-off thankfully.

Since most of Beatrice’s friends know to use her address now and not mine, I haven’t had any of her messages end up in my inbox in two years. Until yesterday morning. It was a surprise and kind of like hearing from a long lost friend. Except I have no real connection to this woman. The only tie we have is through an electronic address: not even a physical space.

I guess Beatrice and I have similar personal e-mail addresses. There are many stories on the web these days about mix-ups with people who have the same name. (There is another Lea Storry but she spells her first name differently. We were Facebook friends for a while.) While I was searching for some stories, I came across this website. It’s a U.S. site that tracks how many people have your name: first and last.

http://howmanyofme.com/search/

Pretty cool. I hope Beatrice gets her merci card in the mail.

Being Human

A piece of art from the TMC exhibit Being Human. See works from TMC programs at Inn From the Cold and The Women's Centre of Calgary, and connect to related short docs by using QR codes and your smart phone. April 3 to April 20, Central Library Art Wall 616 Macleod Trail S.E.

A piece of art from the TMC exhibit Being Human. See works from TMC programs at Inn From the Cold and The Women’s Centre of Calgary, and connect to related short docs by using QR codes and your smart phone. April 3 to April 20, Central Library Art Wall 616 Macleod Trail S.E.

Exhibits, creating art, film screenings and songs circles are just a few events going on at a Calgary festival right now. The This is My City Festival takes place over the month of April. It’s free and there are many things to see and hear and do.

This is My City Calgary Art Society (TMC) is the organizer of the festival.  I’m a volunteer with TMC, a group that matches artists with people living at the margins of society. Together we write, dance, sing and create art.

You’re invited to take in the sights and sounds made by Calgarians from all over our city. Another event tomorrow is a book launch celebrating the second edition of Flood Stories. The book includes pieces of writing from the 2013 flood, from program participants at the Drop-In Centre, Alpha House and the Alex Youth Health Centre. That runs from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. at Shelf Life Books, 1302 4 St. S.W.

At the Being Human exhibit on the Central Library Art Wall, you’ll see selected artworks from This is My City  programs at Inn From the Cold and The Women’s Centre of Calgary. You’ll also be able to connect to related short docs by using QR codes and your smart phone.

For the full festival schedule, go here: http://bit.ly/2nMinwK.  It’s a great way to see, hear, read and listen about the people most of us have forgotten.

Instant Hook Runner-Up

Slave River, NT.

Slave River, NT. This is where my story starts.

In November, I printed off the first 300 words of a novel I was working on and mailed it off to the Fourth Instant Hook Writing Contest. This past weekend, I found out that I’m a runner-up.

The Instant Hook contest gauges how well a writer can “hook” a reader in the beginning of an unpublished novel. Many of you know that if you’re not grabbed at the start of a story, then you’ll probably never turn the page. Authors have to make their words compelling and interesting and worth your time.

The competition was developed by Paul Butler, a writer and creative writer instructor in Lethbridge. Over one hundred first pages from across Canada were submitted to him. The winner is Bianca Lakoseljac from Ontario with her novel Where the Sidewalk Ends. I was a runner-up along with Shawna Troke-Leukert, an author from Newfoundland and Labrador, who wrote Forgive.

Paul said there were a large number of very strong entries this year and “the runners-up represent a small shortlist made up from a very good long shortlist.” My story, Me, You and Here, is about a couple who go on a canoe trip in the Northwest Territories. One of them doesn’t make it back.

  Me, you and here

At first, there was only a sprinkle of rain. Now it’s an angry storm. Rain pours from the sky. Thunder shakes the earth. Lightening slashes the clouds in half and the wind whips the lake into a frenzy. The only thing we can do, you and I, is get off the water.

There’s nowhere to hide on this rocky and wild shore. There’s no dock to pull up to and no warm cabin to keep us dry. There are only millions of trees reaching for the tempest and rejoicing that it’s rain, not snow, falling in the middle of the northern bush.

I’m not sure who suggested turning over the canoe for shelter – you or me? I think it was me. Once I got stuck in weather like this with my family when I was little. My dad paddled us to shore and we all hid underneath the boat until the pelting rain stopped.

That lake is thousands of kilometres away from this one. That lake is much, much closer to civilization. Unlike here, where no one would ever find us if something went wrong.

This morning had dressed as a sunny day. No dark clouds had threatened our journey. No signs of anything to impede our way. Except for your shadowy face. I didn’t dare ask what was wrong this time. We had miles to go and not hours to wait while you explained to me what I did or who I wasn’t.

We had planned this trip years ago. When we were both younger and more energetic and… happier? I put a question mark beside “happier” because I can’t answer that for you. I only know I was happier. I could be happy now too. If I knew you would stay with me.

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